


Grief; Undefinable

by ChibiPanda



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Death of a Parent, Drama, Family, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Platonic Relationships, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiPanda/pseuds/ChibiPanda
Summary: 'Jisung suddenly felt crowded; pinned. Hyunjin and Seungmin still at his hands, Felix latched to his waist and now Chan – with concerned pained eyes – ready to reach out and hug. With unintentional harshness, Jisung forced himself free, “Later.” After his escape, he quickly shed his jacket.'Grief is an interesting, undefined, emotion. It's different for everyone, but Jisung is certain he's doing it - feeling it - wrong.





	Grief; Undefinable

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking!

Fan events were the best. Sure Jisung loved the stage and performing. And he loved writing and composing. And, obviously, tv appearances and Vlives were really entertaining too. But there was something special about fan events.

Seeing Stay’s reaction, hearing their excitement – it reaffirmed that this life really wasn’t a dream. That he hadn’t fallen asleep at three in the morning on the floor of their makeshift recording room, covered with two thick coats and head resting upon Chan’s backpack.

Plus, fan events were less structured. Jisung could play with the others. Taunt Minho into chasing him around the long tables, or slyly tickle Felix before dashing for safety. Rules were simply less rigid.

Of course, the best thing was seeing how much everyone enjoyed it. Watching Chan beam at their progress. Seeing Woojin’s eyes disappear behind wide warm smiles. Knowing Minho was getting love and affection from fans that almost weren’t. Changbin inhibited, bright, joyous, and not really dark at all. Feeling Hyunjin react with his entire body as fans complimented him. Noticing the freckles show slightly behind his makeup as Felix blushes at gifts and comments. The relaxed posture Seungmin gets when he’s reminded that fans don’t think he is mean or too harsh. And recently, seeing the unbounded confidence Jeongin has for his newly freed teeth – knowing the younger’s fears of acceptance have finally washed away with Stay’s kind remarks and loving statements.

Jisung was a sap – everyone knew that – so he wasn’t surprised that his favorite part was actually his members.

Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t also enjoy hearing fans scream for him and squeal with delight when he sings on stage.

This fan event was even more special than most. It was their first, and currently only, event in Australia. Which made it completely invaluable; a memory that can’t be forgotten, a thing that shouldn’t be tarnished.

Chan must have done something funny, because his family – who had come to the event – suddenly started to cheer, effectively bringing Jisung out of his own head.

“Yeah! Bang Chan,” Jisung screamed out, which caused Jeongin to do the same.

Stays seemed to enjoy the cheers and burst out laughing seconds later.

Jisung heard his leader make an embarrassed, but excited, sound into the microphone and smiled broadly.

“Jisung-ah?”

The sudden tapping on his shoulder startled Jisung slightly, but he quickly recovered. Confused as to why the staff member suddenly wanted his attention.

“Come with me for a second please.”

“Hyung,” Jeongin muttered, the word laced with insecurity.

“It’s all good Jeonginie,” Jisung patted the maknae, and switched the mic he held off before setting it down, “be back in a second.”

The staff member led Jisung back behind the backdrop and he could hear Woojin mutter something into the mic resulting in a response from Seungmin.

“Jisung,” the staff member paused to take a deep breath, “We received a call from your father,” the woman paused again and it spiked fear in Jisung. “Your mother had an aneurysm.”

“What? When? Is she alright?” his voice was tight and tentative.  

The woman slowly shook her head, “No. It was in the brain, during the night...she was apparently gone when your father woke up.”

Jisung felt his heart stop and he head race, “She’s...dead?” he heard himself ask; already knowing the answer. He didn’t even look at the staff woman to see her nod.

“You’ll be flying out the day after tomorrow,”

“Day after…” Jisung repeated hollowly.

“Yes. Your father insisted there’s no rush. Her funeral will be held next week sometime,” she answered uncomfortably, “While the group has practice, the radio show tomorrow…” she shifted again and Jisung realized she didn’t know what to do, “You’re welcome to attend those schedules, but the management has said you aren’t obligated. They’ve also said, should it be in your best interest, the others are welcome to sit out practice and rehearsal. Sadly, the radio show is more complicated – your attendance is optional, but theirs…” she tapped off again. “I’m very sorry...you can go wait for the others in the dressing room...if you’d like…”

“No. They’re waiting,” tarnish, their fun would be tarnished; _don’t._ “Thank you for letting me know.” _he sounded fine; normal…_

She seemed unsure, “Alright – I’ll bring you a bottle of water…”

Jisung felt himself nod again and turn back the way he’d come. How was he supposed to feel? Sad? Drained? He didn’t though. He felt empty – maybe – hollow. Shock? Probably, that’s what this was. _Stop, pull yourself out of it for a bit…_

Jeongin must have been glancing back every so often because he saw Jisung the second the older reentered the stage, “Everything alright Hyung?” he asked softly, hand capped hiding his mouth from view.

_How do I answer that question?_ “No...but don’t worry Jeonginie. Everything is going to be alright,” Jisung plastered a smile on his face, his voice was level – reassuring even.

Jeongin flashed a concerned look, clearly unsure of what to make of that answer. But he turned back to the front without much else needing to be said.

Jisung followed suit and turned back to the fans. They didn’t seem to notice things changed. Why would they? When will the news outlets announce it? _He needs to tell the others before then...before they find out...will management tell Chan? Maybe, probably?_

A plushy popped into Jisung’s vision – a bear, dark brown and fluffy, wearing a handmade jacket with Stray Kids stitched into the upper right corner. It took him a few seconds to fully acknowledge; like his mind took a few seconds to catch up; sluggish. He smiled again and turned towards Hyunjin who’d held it up, “cute.” Jisung could see Hyunjin deflated marginally.

“I know right!” Hyunjin forced enthusiasm as he made the bear dance a bit, eventually, he placed it back down on the table and turned to talk to Seungmin. However, Hyunjin’s right hand sunk below the table and found Jisung’s own.

It was a weird feeling, Hyunjin’s hand was warm and soft. The slightly older boy slowly ran his fingers along Jisung’s skin in small circles. But Jisung couldn’t feel it. Or, maybe it just felt wrong. Like rubber or heated plastic. Despite the movement, it didn’t feel like Hyunjin at all.

Jisung could tell, somewhere behind the thoughts of his mother and the uncertain panic, that Hyunjin knew something was wrong. The circles stopped only a couple minutes later, but the tightness – the pressure – had increased.

A water bottle was placed in front of him and then someone grabbed his shoulder lightly, causing Jisung to turn.

“Sungie,” Chan’s voice was low and soft.

_His mother spoke like that whenever he’d been hurt._

“Sung, our manager told me –“

“Not now Hyung –“

“You can go wait for us in the –“

“Not now Hyung…” Jisung muttered a second time, “please.” He was speaking quietly – level – but the desperation seemed to have reached Hyunjin, who squeezed harder, and Jeongin, who was suddenly forcing Jisung to drink from the newly opened bottle of water.

Chan looked devastated, raw, but nodded.

Jisung watched his friend’s expression change before the older stood again to walk back to his seat. The water bottle was there again, gently being placed to his lips. _Shouldn’t it feel warm? Jeonginie is trying to care for you._ Blinking blindly, Jisung forced another smile as he grabbed the water bottle with his free hand.

Somewhere in front of him, though it felt like it came from behind, Jisung heard fans ‘awe’ over Jeongin’s actions and on autopilot, Jisung reached out after setting the bottle down to rub the younger’s head fondly. That’s what he was supposed to do – how he was supposed to act.

Jeongin smiled brightly, but his expressive eyes told a different story. They were dark and questioning; concerned. They were also kind; kind like Chan’s words and Hyunjin’s hands. So kind it felt sharp and Jisung had to look away.

If Chan knew – Chan would, could, tell the others. Chan could utter the words that Jisung was reluctant to voice.

They’d ask though, wouldn’t they? They’d ask how he felt. Jisung wasn’t sure he knew the answer. He wasn’t ‘okay’ but what was he – sad? No. Not yet anyway.

Hyunjin pulled at his hand gently, bringing Jisung back into the world.

Woojin was singing something and Hyunjin had decided to swing his hands playfully – still gripping tightly to Jisung.

The numbness was temporarily filled with appreciation, as Jisung willingly joined in. He couldn’t hear Woojin clearly, like his ears were filled with water, but he followed Hyunjin’s lead.

The meeting must have been wrapping up, though Jisung wasn’t fully aware of the time he did recognize the sounds of sadness expressed by Stays.

_They are going to be upset too, aren’t they? When they find out. Why?_

“Time to say ‘goodbye’ Sungie. You gotta stand,” Hyunjin had leaned down pretending to adjust his jacket as he spoke. He gave Jisung a second to process, before using their still clasped hands to pull the younger up.

Jisung screamed “Thank you,” in English with the others and allowed Hyunjin to pull him into a bow. More hands were on him as he stood again. One around his waist – Felix – and one wrapped around his other hand – Seungmin. They didn’t know – couldn’t know yet – but they still knew something was off.

The usual chatter filled the hallway as the nine walked back to the waiting room. Woojin, Changbin, and Minho started to change out of their outfits right away. They were completely unaware, Jisung realized. They’d been sitting beyond the other 2000 liners; Jisung was going to have to watch them discover something was wrong. Watch all of them discover _what_ was wrong.

“Jisungie,” Chan was back, eyes soft and voice quiet, “Do you want to wait until we’re back at the hotel? We’ll discuss practice later too.”

“Yeah,” still hollow sounding, “At the hotel.” Or never.

“Alright,” Chan paused, contemplating whether he should hug the younger.

Jisung suddenly felt crowded; pinned. Hyunjin and Seungmin still at his hands, Felix latched to his waist and now Chan – with concerned pained eyes – ready to reach out and hug. With unintentional harshness, Jisung forced himself free, “Later.” After his escape, he quickly shed his jacket.

His phone slipped out of his pocket. It fell to the hard floor with a clatter – normally drowned out by the chatter around him, but instead, it was loud; deafening. Bullet like. Sharp. Painful.

_Had his dad messaged him? Was there a phone message? Did he just call the company? Had the company called him?_

Minho appeared and grabbed the phone, effortlessly stuffing it into his own pocket before looking up, “You alright Ji?”

The question broke whatever spell Jisung was under, “Yeah,” it came out breathy, but he ignored it and pulled his large sweatshirt on without a second glance.

Minho started to speak again but was cut off by Chan’s hand.

The leader managed to reanimate the group and the noise level rose back up to normal levels.

It didn’t take long for them to be ushered out into the vans and towards the nearby hotel. For Jisung it was a blur.

A blink. An oddly long, oddly blank blink.

The next thing he knew, Jisung was being led to out of the van and into the hotel by Chan. Chan who held firm and spoke softly the whole way up to their room.

“I’ll message you later Channie,” Jisung heard their manager mutter as they entered, and he heard Chan hum back, a low rumble near Jisung’s ear.

“What’s going on?” Seungmin asked a minute later, catching everyone’s attention.

“Jisungie?” Chan whispered quietly, hands still locked onto the younger’s shoulders.

“Later,”

“Jisungie,” Chan paused glancing at the others, “I think –“

“Later Hyung.” He lowered his eyes – everyone was watching him, “Please.”

“The company has to make a statement as to why you are going to be missing performances –“

Performances – they had a concert – a two-day concert – tomorrow and the day after.

“We have concerts,” whatever hollow sound Jisung’s voice had moments ago was gone. Replaced with a desperate realization, “I can’t miss – your and Felix’s families,” _his mother was never going to see,_ “need to see us at our best. I can’t take that from them. That’s not fair,” there it was. His voice broke – threatened to shatter, to give way to whatever emotion had festered inside that hollow void.

“Jisung! Stop, please. Please stop,” Chan’s voice was less controlled, “We understand.”

 But they didn’t. Jisung hadn’t told them – Chan knew. But only Chan. Woojin didn’t. Minho didn’t. Changbin didn’t. Hyunjin didn’t. Felix didn’t. Jeongin didn’t. They didn’t. “Tell them…” he heard Chan let out a shaky breath and felt the older wrap his arms around him tightly.

“Chan-hyung?” Felix sounded scared.

“Let’s sit down,” Chan led Jisung to the couch, forced him to sit and then joined the younger. After a beat the others slowly followed suit; Felix finding a spot next to Jisung; Minho, Hyunjin, and Jeongin sinking to the floor; Seungmin and Woojin finding the open chairs; Changbin placing himself on the floor leaning against Jisung’s legs.

“So,” Chan began and Jisung tensed.

“I’ll perform with everyone tomorrow,” he interrupted, jumping at the sound of his own voice.

“We’ll discuss that later,” Chan answered after a beat, before continuing slowly, “I don’t really know how to explain this…”

_You shouldn’t have to._ Jisung’s mind taunted, _It’s not your mom…she was mine,_ he curled in a bit, hiding from his own weaknesses.

“Uh, I guess I’ll just,” Chan paused again, voice breaking slightly, “Jisung’s mother passed away last night.”

“What?” Jeongin’s voice was unreadable and quiet.

Jisung felt Felix’s long delicate limbs slowly loop around his middle as all the air left his body.

“I don’t know the details,” Chan muttered, unsure of how he should answer.

“When’s the,” Woojin paused mid-question, “funeral?”

When no one answered, Jisung realized the question was for him. His chest flared against Felix’s grip, “I don’t know…sometime after I get there…”

“Ji,” Changbin had turned around and placed his hands on the younger’s knees.

“He said not to rush. Dad. Dad said that.” Jisung continued on rambling, “I fly out the day after tomorrow…I don’t know when. Before the concert? I’m sorry…I’ll have to do a Vlive and explain – apologize to your parents, Hyung, ‘lix. I’m so sorry.”

Arms wrapped around him, pulling him down from the couch and out of Felix’s grasp – though Felix didn’t let go fully – and into Changbin’s tight strong arms, “Stop. Jisung. It’s alright – I mean, we understand, alright?” Changbin’s voice was fragile; brittle, “We understand and you don’t need to say ‘sorry.’ Ever.”

“I need…should,” Jisung swallowed thickly, “have apologized to her…”

Changbin’s arms tightened, “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true,” Jisung argued dryly, “It’s true. I –“

“No. It’s not true Jisung.”

“I barely spent time with her…”

“Jisung just stop, please. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Changbin continued to whimper tightly.

“Here,” Seungmin had brought a glass of water from the kitchenette, “You should drink something Sungie.”

Changbin allowed the youngest of 3racha pull away, and Seungmin waited – crouched by the two – until Jisung had finished the glass.

“What do you need us to do Jisungie?”

Jisung lifted his head again. Minho looked heartbroken but also genuinely waiting for Jisung to answer his question, “What?”

Woojin was the one who answered, “What do you need us to do? Do you want us to listen? Or do you want us to talk?” The eldest glanced around at the others briefly and Jisung followed suit.

Most seemed unsure. Jeongin looked lost, caught between reaching out and running away. Both Chan and Felix – who had been nothing but excited since arriving in Australia – seemed broken. Changbin hadn’t taken his eyes off Jisung yet, outwardly calm and supportive. Seungmin had remained squatting even after the glass was returned, his untapped kindness easily swallowed his usual spiky wit. Minho too was obviously subdued. Hyunjin was silent but crying.

And then there was Jisung, “I don’t know. I don’t know anything…” he looked around and sighed, “What am _I_ supposed to want? Nothing makes sense…” he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling guilty and drained more than sad. _Was that normal?_ “I want to perform at the concert tomorrow. I have to. I’d – It's so unfair if I didn’t – I need to…”

“Okay.”

*~*~*~*

The news of his mother’s death wasn’t released until their concert finished – a small victory to Jisung. The group made no mention of it that night, in fact, Jisung had even forced himself to sleep before the news actually was released; curled up tight next to Felix, who had chosen not to eat with his family that evening.

They’d all woken up to see Jisung off. With warm hugs, kind words, and demands that Jisung message them daily.

The drive was surreal. The flight was surreal. The absence of fans at the airport was surreal. The last two days felt absolutely surreal; fake.

But they weren’t. It wasn’t a dream. His mother died. She’d went to bed, slept, and that was the end.

The funeral was beautiful, a proper sendoff Jisung supposed. A clean mixture of traditional and none traditional just like their family had always been; how Jisung had always been.

It had been beautiful, heavy, and sad.

Isolating. Ironic considering Jisung was surrounded by people. Family, family friends, his mother’s friends, his father’s coworkers, people. They spoke to him, expressed their sorrow – their condolences, they hugged him, tried to offer something. But they didn’t. Those actions didn’t breach whatever barrier Jisung had constructed.

He hadn’t really cried either, a thought that bothered him almost as much. Jisung should have cried at the fan event, or at least later in the hotel. He certainly should have cried during her funeral. Was he a bad person? A bad son? Was something wrong with him?

He cried on stage, broke down, for something as seemingly ridiculous as achieving a goal with friends and yet now his mother was dead – buried alongside his grandparents – and he’d barely shed a tear.

The closest Jisung had come to crying was the morning of the funeral after receiving a message from Hyunjin. It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t monumental. It was, ‘Love you, Ji. I’m here whenever you need me.’ A simple statement, but it almost forced tears to flow. Almost.

Jisung was used to emotions, he felt them intensely and passionately. He burned hot and cooled quickly. He wore his heart on his sleeve.

So what was wrong with him? He loved his mother. He already missed her, so why was he incapable…

“Jisungie?” Got7’s manager had offered to drive him back to the dorms following everything, “will you be alright by yourself? The others should be landing in a couple of hours.”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for the ride Hyung.”

“I wish it was under better circumstances, but your welcome Jisung-ah,” the older man glanced in his mirror and pulled into a spot, “Do you need help getting everything?”

“No. It’s fine.” Jisung only had his backpack, most of the things he’d brought to Australia had stayed there. Stayed in the suitcase he shared with Hyunjin.

The building was quiet. It was only nine in the morning, so the silence wasn’t unusual, but the heavy feeling was.

Their dorms were stale, unused for the last week, and cold. Jisung wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. A recurring theme. The dorm felt far too large without anyone else present.

His room was bright, illuminated by the open blinds, Seungmin’s bed was made – untouched since they’d left, Hyunjin’s was less neat – blankets ruffled and uneven, and then there was Jisung’s own.

The quilt was mostly on the floor, sheets pulled half off with it, his three stuffed toys near the angled pillow, and a few pieces of unfolded – yet clean – clothing sitting in the middle. Also untouched since they left.

The last time he’d slept there, Jisung had yet to officially meet Felix’s family. He hadn’t performed in Australia. His mom was alive.

The last time he’d spoken to her, he’d been in that bed. Running his hands over the fuzzy head of the toy squirrel he’d been given at a fan meet. They’d been laughing about the ‘Get Cool’ video. How clever it was. How cute it was.

Jisung dropped his backpack there, somewhere between the door and the bed, and left the room. He paused just outside wondering if he’d be able to sleep there again.

Would things be anything again, or was everything going to be different and uncomfortable now? Was everything going to be defined by her death; the before and the after.

“Shit…” the word almost echoed in the hall. Almost. Had his dad slept in their bed since her death? Had his dad been able to overcome that?

Jisung took a long deep breath and tried to push the questions out – pushed them somewhere unreachable. Somewhere he’d never have to see or think about them again.

The silence was painful. He wanted his members, wanted their warmth and support. Maybe then he could cry – as he should.

He should be crying, shouldn’t he?

A low drawn out frustrated sound filled the silence. He couldn’t do it right now. Couldn’t think about it, couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t do it.

He dropped his phone on the counter and wandered back down the hallway, pausing for a moment outside his room, and then continued past it.

Chan and Changbin’s room was dark, barely illuminated through the blackout blinds, but both beds were made and the floor was bare of clutter.

This room didn’t feel empty or painful. This room was inviting and comforting. It didn’t feel stale or dead; hollow.

Jisung found his way to Chan’s bunk and easily sunk into it. His body wasn’t tired – but his brain, his mind. The pillow smelled like Chan, it was safe – like a hug. Chan would know how to make him feel better. All his members would. They’d figure out a way to fix Jisung.

The situation couldn’t be fixed, but maybe he could be. Maybe Chan or Changbin could work their magic and make the hollow feeling disappear.

Jisung didn’t sleep, he didn’t want to, but he did curl up on Chan’s bed and willed his mind to remain blank and quiet.

He stayed still when the front door opened and the hushed chatter of his members reached him, unsure of how he should greet them. Should he try to be normal? Were they uncomfortable?

“Jisung?”

That was Changbin.

“My Sungshiny?”

Felix.

Jisung heard others, but their words weren’t discernable.

“Sungie?” Hyunjin’s head peeked through the door, and Jisung could just make out the edges of a smile, “Hi.” He leaned out for a second, “He’s in here,” Hyunjin turned back and walked to the bed, gracefully crawling in behind Jisung, “We missed you.”

There was that knot again, firmly lodged in his throat.

“My Sungshine,” Felix didn’t even bother waiting by the door and quickly found himself laying on top of Jisung, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Felix’s weight felt grounding, “I miss you guys,” Jisung managed to whisper.

It was just the three of them for a few minutes. Felix shifted under Jisung somehow, holding his near twin so Jisung could easily listen to each pulse of the dancer’s heart. Hyunjin too had moved enough so that his long delicate hands entangled both the sunshine boy’s bodies.

Seungmin was next to find his way into the room. He didn’t join them on the bed, instead, he sat against it. Carefully, he placed a plate full of rice balls and a cup of steaming tea down on the floor next to him, “Hey Sungie. I brought snacks and tea.” He grabbed one of the lumpy homemade balls and took a bite, then offered a bite to Hyunjin, followed by Felix, and lastly Jisung, “Come on Sungie ~ You get the last bite.”

“You all realize that is my bed right?” Chan entered followed shortly by Changbin. Chan pulled up the blinds and brought the room into the light. He paused and looked at the pile of boys with a soft smile, “You hungry Sung? We’re going to order some food in a bit, probably.”

Jisung hummed against Felix’s chest chewing the bite of rice Seungmin had given him. It was tasteless, but it made Jisung’s mouth salivate. He hadn’t been able to eat much over the last few days – nothing sounded appealing and his family, lost in their own grief, hadn’t forced food upon him. But here, less than twenty minutes in, and he’d already been fed.

Changbin asked the question first, as he sat quietly on his own bunk, Gyu loosely held in his grasp, “How are you Jisungie?”

Jisung knew the question would come, he’d even assumed Changbin – his deep and thoughtful best friend – would likely be the one to voice it, “I haven’t cried.” The words came out with a puff of air, breathy and unintentional. Jisung felt both Felix and Hyunjin tighten their holds and could see Seungmin’s sympathetic eyes flash over him. “Shouldn’t I have cried by now?” he questioned louder, “She’s gone and I’ve not even shed a tear for her…what’s wrong with me? Something must be fuckin –“

“Stop that.” Woojin had appeared at the doorway. His own eyes red, “You’re allowed to feel however you feel Jisung.” The vocalist looked to his right with a silent sigh. “There is nothing wrong with you.” Woojin nodded slightly, and carefully ushered Minho and Jeongin into the crowded room.

Minho looked composed and smiled tenderly towards the pile of boys. However, Jeongin seemed to be struggling.

“Innie,” Jisung didn’t move much, simply lifting his arm, but it was enough of an invitation for the normally self-sufficient maknae. Jeongin slowly detached himself from Minho and walked towards the bed. Quickly burying himself in Jisung’s arm.

“I don’t know how to make you feel better…”

Hyunjin’s arms tightened again.

“That’s alright Innie,” Jisung mumbled into Jeongin’s hair, “Thank you for wanting to help,” Jisung said the last part louder, so they all could hear it.

“I’m going to go grab food,” Woojin cleared his throat before speaking again, “Who’s going with me?”

Jisung could tell that this was preplanned – discussed – when Hyunjin slowly pulled away, after kissing the back of Jisung’s head. Jeongin also moved away, along with Seungmin. The latter gave Jisung another bite of food before leaving.

Once Woojin, Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Seungmin were gone, Jisung chuckled into Felix’s chest warmly, “They lost a game of rock-paper-scissors, huh?”

“You know us too well, Ji,” Minho took that opportunity to sit down on the bed and pat Jisung’s calf.

“The four of us tied six times in a row,” Felix’s deep voice sounded octaves lower when heard through his chest.

“I’m sorry.”

Felix shushed Jisung mid-apology.

“I messed everything up…”

“Stop that Jisungie,” Minho slapped the younger’s leg lightly, “You can’t control everything.”

“Jisungie,” Chan sighed, “I wish I could make everything better, or that I knew how to make you feel better. But all I can do – all we can do – is be here.”

“Yeah…”

“And because I think it needs repeating,” Changbin started, “There is nothing wrong with you. People handle things differently. You are strong and brave. Alright? I wouldn’t have performed – I wouldn’t have been able to function. And maybe it’ll hit you tomorrow, or maybe next month during rehearsal, or maybe while we’re writing lyrics – but you know what?”

As the silence drew out, Jisung answered thickly, “What?”

“We’ll be here. You can come to any of us,” Minho answered.

Jisung squeezed Felix, “You guys planned all this.”

“We had time to kill,” Chan ran a hand through Jisung’s hair.

That was a lie. Jisung knew they hadn’t had any free time; probably even less, since he wasn’t there and they’d had to fill his spot. Cover his rapping, cover his singing, his dancing. He’d made their time in Australia so much harder; took away something from Chan and Felix. Yet they still thought of him.

Felix was shushing him again and Jisung realized he was crying. Out of all the things that had happened in the last few days, his member – his friends – kindness was enough to open whatever gate he’d locked. He tried to laugh, though it sounded more like a broken sob, “thanks…”

**Author's Note:**

> So first, I don't think it needs to be said but I am going to say it anyway - I hope every member of Stray Kids and their families live long healthy lives.
> 
> This one was a trip to write. I was worried about doing it justice, while also confronting things in my own life. I hope it was effective.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3 if you have ideas for future stuff, feel free to let me know; it might become a story. Have a wonderful week!


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